Target
by hanfan26
Summary: Casey Novak becomes the target of a vicious criminal who has a disturbing record. Will she become just another person in his pattern, or will she be rescued before it is too late? Rated T for violence, and future scenes. (I'm terrible at summaries, it will be better than I lamely described here). Reviews are GREATLY appreciated.


**Author's note: Hello, fello people of Fanfiction. I decided to write a new story, well, because writing new stories usually helps clear my writer's block on other stories. It worked again :) So, I have rated this story as T because I don't think I can make myself write anything more explicit than that.. I don't have it in me. I'll try to write this story more serious than my others, trying something new shall be fun.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, just a computer and my own words.**

Casey Novak sat at her desk, fumbling around with a pen. She eyed the clock, which read 11:42 p.m. The day had been especially long, and everyone seemed to be giving her crap, which wore her out even more. The judge had been in a pissy mood during the trial, and the defense attorney made her witnesses look like first graders. She won the case, however. It had created a mountain of paperwork for her to finish, though, which was why she was still sitting there. She didn't usually stay in the office so late, and she knew that everyone else had already left. Elliot had called and asked if she wanted a ride to go get something to eat. Olivia had called her after that and asked if she was still at work, and if she wanted company, but Casey had told her to go and get some rest. _They really don't want me to get anything done, _she thought bitterly. She knew that wasn't true, but it was annoying sometimes. She was glad that at least her friends kept her in mind. Casey turned the pen point-down and went to write something, but her mind couldn't focus. All she could think about was how tired she was, and how much she wanted to shower and sleep. She was past the point of getting anything accomplished, so she figured she may as well just go home. Sighing, Casey gathered all of her papers, and set them in a neat pile on the edge of her desk. There was no use bringing them home, they would just get scattered and she knew that no progress would be made with them. She eased on her coat, and grabbed her purse. Because she was the last one in the building, she turned the lights off and set the alarm. She keyed the numbers in, and heard the beep which told her she'd done it correctly and to leave within a minute. She exited swiftly, and headed for her sleek, black car.

It was about a fifteen minute drive to her apartment. There were still many people out and about, but the traffic was only slight. Casey rode the elevator up to her floor, the third, and followed the soft hallway lights to her door. She unlocked the door, and entered. It was a relief to be home. She took her coat off, and hung it up right next to the door. It was her favorite, and she knew she would most likely wear it again tomorrow. Setting her purse on the table, she headed for the shower without bothering to put her wallet back in the pocket it fell out of. She wanted to get to bed as soon as possible. Normally, she could pull an all-nighter without a single complaint, but today had sucked. When she reached the bathroom, she thought about closing the door, but decided to leave it open. There weren't any windows around, the front door was locked and the chain was up. Plus, she wanted the steam to flow out so the mirror wouldn't fog. She stripped her clothes off and gladly let the hot water wash away the day's problems. Casey liked the water scorching hot, even though it left her pale skin an angry red. She ran her fingers through her slightly-longer-than-shoulder blonde hair, loving the way her shampoo gave it a silky texture. It looked strange against her rubicund skin on her chest. The suds ran down her body as she reached for the near-empty bottle of blackberry body wash. _Hmm. This isn't right. _Casey thought to herself. _I just bought a new bottle of that stuff yesterday. Why's it almost empty? _Instead, she used a different soap, and her gaze followed it downwards. Her breath caught in her throat. Casey immediately turned off the water, and stepped back to reveal a discoloration of the shower mat. It was all blue, except for the part of the mat that looked purple. She could tell something was underneath it. Casey cautiously lifted the edge of it to show a small red stain that she hadn't noticed before. _Oh my God, that's blood._

She got out of the shower and wrapped her hair tightly in a towel. She put on her bathrobe and walked out into the living room. The blinds were securely closed, and she knew no one could see her. She surveyed the area; nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The kitchen was normal. Casey walked down past her bathroom, and stopped in the doorway of the bedroom. It was an absolute mess. The bed was stripped of everything except the comforter. Her lamp on her bedside table was broken and lying in pieces on the floor. The window was also broken, and everything sitting on her dresser had been thrown about. A sickening feeling surged through her when she knew that someone had broken into her apartment. Her hand reached for her cell phone when a glint of white caught her eye. The chilling wind from outside had blown in through the broken window, and a piece of paper on the floor blew towards the bed. It was a note that caught on the edge of the bed frame. Casey knew better than to touch it with her bare hands, in case the person hadn't worn gloves. She used the sleeve of her bathrobe to cover her right hand and picked it up carefully. Casey noticed right away that it was poorly hand-written, and from the slant of the letters, it was probably written by a left-hander. It read: _You're next._

Chills ran across her entire body, partially from the cold air drying her wet skin. Casey pulled a pair of dark sweatpants and a jacket from her closet and quickly dressed. She needed to leave the bedroom; Casey did not want to disturb any possible evidence. She sat on the couch and reached for her phone. Although she knew that she should call 911, it would be faster to call her friends at the Special Victims Unit. She dialed for Olivia. It rang five times, and Casey thought maybe she wouldn't answer. On the last ring, Casey heard Olivia's voice.

The first thing Olivia said when she answered the phone was "What's wrong, Casey?" Olivia knew that Casey rarely called at such a time. Usually when she called, it was during work hours and was case related. Sometimes she called right after work to see if Olivia wanted to go for drinks, but Olivia knew this was different.

"Thank God. Olivia, I'm so glad you picked up. Something happened."

"What? Come on, Casey."

"I don't know, it looks like someone broke into my apartment."

"Did they steal anything?"

"I don't think so; it looks like someone was attacked here. And whoever did this is coming for me." She said the last part slowly as if it wasn't her talking.

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, right after I got out of the shower, I—"

Pain exploded in the back of Casey's head. A high pitched, tinny sound flowed slowly through her ears, blocking out her own grunt as she hit the floor heavily. Adrenaline raced through her body. A pair of gloved hands was on her, one hand hit the phone away and the other found her jaw. Tiny stars shot in distracting lines across her vision. She threw her arm back and hit her assailant in the chest. He muttered something under his breath. She quickly rose to her feet despite the edges of the floor starting to spin. Casey spun around and met eyes with him; and the details rushed in. Tall male, dusty blonde, probably mid-30s, and very angry. Casey went to punch him right in the face, but he caught her wrist and twisted it painfully behind her back. His other arm wrapped around her throat. A strangled cry barely managed to escape her lips. The man was extremely agile, also catching her off-guard with his strength.

Horror seized Casey's chest at the thought of losing consciousness. She flung her legs in an attempt to unbalance him, but his grip around her throat was tightening. She felt like her lungs were set in an unrelenting fire. Large white spots began to claim chunks of her vision, but at the last second, she was released. Casey sucked in as much air as humanly possible in one breath. She tried to make a noise, but some strange crackling sound came out instead. The man bent over her, getting right in her face, and showed her his knife. Not large, but in her weakened state, deadly.

Yanking Casey's right arm up, he placed the knife at an angle right on the skin of her throat.

"If you scream, I'll kill you right now." He said in a deep voice.

Casey was led to the table in the living room where the contents of her purse laid spread out on the top. She walked carefully, as to avoid cutting her throat by accident. The man reached down and grabbed her wallet with one hand. He gave his hand a small jerk so the bottom flap came free from the top, and her driver's license was revealed.

"So, your name is Casey." A slight grin spread across his thin lips. "Well, you can come with me one of two ways. I can't be having you cause any trouble, though. Will you behave yourself?"

Complete and utter fear for her life gripped Casey. She was torn by conflicting emotions about how to respond to such a horrific question. Should she give in and focus on survival? Should she go with her fiery personality and tell the son-of-a-bitch off? Or fight back as hard as she can?

Her silence was interpreted as indifference, which he responded to with a closed fist to the cheekbone. Another sucker punch to the face and Casey was out cold.

"Have it your way then, bitch."


End file.
